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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28738284">The Trophy Student</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FizzleFudge/pseuds/FizzleFudge'>FizzleFudge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Self-Hatred</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:19:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28738284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FizzleFudge/pseuds/FizzleFudge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor is slowly destroying himself by excessive drinking and partying.<br/>One night he's too drunk to take care of himself, so Markus and Simon take it upon themselves to escort him home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Connor/Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Original Chloe | RT600/North</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Trophy Student</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wanted to write Connor from the perspective where he appeared to be analytical yet carefree, since he’s very observant but actively chooses not to care for anyone.</p><p>Also - homophobia, in 2038? It’s more likely than you think!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a cold night; colder than it usually was in late October, but not enough to stop Connor from wearing nothing but a denim jacket above his thin shirt. He shivered slightly when a breeze went right through him, and embraced himself to gather warmth. Some time ago, the cold wouldn’t have bothered him, but since he had picked up the bad habit of smoking, his body had a harder time adjusting to cooler temperatures. Contemplating this, Connor reminded himself of the cigarettes in one of his pockets, and lit one up with shaking hands. One of these days he would have to buy a pair of gloves, he mused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not much later, he entered one of the city’s more attractive bars, where the scattered people warmed the premises and soon made him forget about ever freezing. Although it was a Wednesday evening, it seemed an entire class from one of the city’s two colleges were out partying together, thus heightening the otherwise quite calm atmosphere of the bar. He was intrigued by not recognizing anyone apart from a few regular patrons like himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jimmy”, he greeted the bartender. “How’s business?” Although they were no more than acquaintances, Connor frequented this place often enough to have built quite a friendly relationship with the man. He was a good lad with enough moral standards to look after Connor when he got too drunk to handle himself, and that was one of the reasons why this was his favourite place to drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the business”, Jimmy smiled lopsidedly at him. “You were here less than a day ago, mate.” Without having to ask, he started to prepare the drink he knew Connor was going to order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor pretended to count on his fingers. “No, it must at least have been two days, I’m certain.” He snickered at the exasperated but fond smile Jimmy gave him together with his drink. It was a sickly sweet mix of milk and liquor that tasted better than anything he knew. Alas, it was expensive, so he only treated himself with it as a starter to save as much money as he could, to have enough the remainder of the night for as much alcohol as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right”, Jimmy agreed. “You were here on Monday, no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It was a sparse day and little action”, Connor answered, mocking a sad tone of voice. “I really don’t see why people avoid going out on weekdays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously, you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor pouted at him and they continued their soft bickering. He quickly finished his drink and wondered what else he would get, when a strong mist of flower perfume interrupted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi there, handsome.” A young woman draped herself over the bar stool next to Connor and blinked with her long eyelashes flirtatiously. Her breasts were nearly falling out of her top when she leaned forward. She grinned predatorily when she noticed his staring, although it was more in wonder of how she could even breathe in such a tight top and less because of her large chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evening”, he greeted with a forced smile. By the obvious stares and whispers from one of the tables in a corner, she was with a large group of friends, presumably half a class, if his earlier assumption that an entire class was here together tonight was correct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look tense”, she said. It was not the kindest of things people had said to flirt with him, but he let it pass. “Let me buy you something.” She turned to Jimmy and requested two glasses of whiskey, to which he obliged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How kind of you”, Connor said earnestly and instantly found it easier to smile. He would be lying if he said he was surprised by being offered a drink; it happened quite frequently. Something about his lean posture and boyish charm intrigued many, and had provided him with a great deal of free drinks. Jimmy had once said it was as if a magnet was around him to drag alcohol from people’s pockets straight down his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sarah”, she introduced herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You want to join our table? I think we were about to play some drinking game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group of friends whistled as Sarah successfully returned with Connor in tow, and he smiled at the smugness of her expression. She would most likely not be as proud to have persuaded him to be by her side had she known how incredibly easy he was to win over. Or the fact that his interest in women was exceptionally small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About ten or so people sat around the table and became progressively more intoxicated as the night went on. It was an average group of friends; not exceptionally humorous nor particularly interesting in Connor’s opinion. But they did buy a lot of beer cans and whiskey bottles they were more than glad to share with him, so really he had no complaints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the way Sarah constantly turned to look at a guy diagonally across from her, Connor suspected with growing certainty that they either had some kind of relationship or that she wanted them to. That didn’t stop her from touching Connor, though. She had an arm over his shoulder so he felt forced to hold her by the waist, and she didn’t hesitate to lean in and whisper in his ear on a frequent basis. By the jealous glares the guy shot Connor, it was obvious she succeeded her mission of luring him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the table, a lad with glasses sneaked other sorts of glances at Connor, which he had a hard time deciphering. Was he jealous of him for being with Sarah? By her interactions she seemed to be quite popular with her charisma and blinding smiles, so it was certainly a possibility. But Connor had another theory that grew as the boy smiled at him behind a mop of hair. It was confirmed when Sarah finally excused herself to join the guy she had, indeed, tried to make jealous by clinging to Connor all night, in the disabled’s toilet. Quickly, the lad had made his way round the table and sat himself beside Connor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tentatively, he placed his hand on Connor’s thigh hidden under the table. Finally something was happening, Connor thought as he nodded toward the men’s bathroom and strode away. By standing up, the alcohol in his system made itself more evident as every glass he’d consumed rushed to his head at once. With this added boost of confidence, he quickly looked in the mirrors to make sure his hair was styled neatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely a minute later, the boy with glasses joined him, and they wasted no time getting into a cubicle. The impeccable cleaning of this bar was another reason Connor favoured it; even the bathroom stalls were spotless and definitely not the worst place to get some action in. What started out as a kiss twisted to turn rather rough, and with Connor on the receiving end it was exactly to his taste. To his credit, the boy held out for quite some time, and when he released the built-up tension, Connor followed suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterwards, they traded firm nods and looks that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>keep quiet about this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Then, the boy Connor didn’t even know the name of, returned to their table, and Connor waited some time before he did, too. The exercise he had just finished left room for more liquor, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, he was surprised to wake up with a murderous headache and light nausea. Nowadays, he rarely got hungover; not only was his resistance high as a roof, but he consumed alcohol so often he was almost certain it would take a week of sobriety for it all to disappear from his system. Alas, the mixture of many glasses of whiskey and beer seemed to be an exception.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With less than half an hour until his first lecture would start, Connor all but fell from his bed and dragged himself to the tiny bathroom connected to his dorm room. The cabinets were stuffed with various hair products and deodorants, but none of the painkillers he wanted. With a groan, he instead started to rummage through his wardrobe in search of anything that could halt his growing unease. Triumphantly, he held up a bottle of tequila as if it were a holy item granted by the lords themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasted no time pouring it in an enclosed coffee mug, and gratefully took a few sips before getting ready to head out. When it hurt him to sit down, his body rather than himself remembered the previous night, and he grit his teeth at the realisation he would have to sit down all day with a sore bottom. Thank you, yesterday’s Connor, Connor thought bitterly to his past self. Although, he wasn’t so regretful in earnest. It had been a satisfactory lay, and it had managed to make him forget about the painful reality in which he existed, which was his only objective most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After having returned to the table, he remembered little of what had happened last night. It was a blurry mess of faceless people, too many cigarettes, some argument he had had with someone, and a fight. Groaning, he looked down to find a few bruises on his knees and palms. Drunk Connor would never stop believing he was invincible, and had most likely been thrown on the pavement by whoever he had insulted with little effort. How he had managed to get back to campus and into his dormitory was a mystery he lacked the energy to investigate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it was a rather small lecture hall, barely a third of the seats were occupied, and Connor slumped down at random in the far back. The juniors studying law enforcement were few, and the criminology majors beside himself were barely a handful. At times, it was a relief to avoid the large crowds some classes consisted of, whereas other times it was quite bothersome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he took the first sip from his inconspicuous mug, Gavin Reed turned his head some seats beside him to sneer condecendingly, and Connor categorised this as part of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bothersome</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He fought the urge to flip him off, and tried to pay attention to Lieutenant Anderson by the podium. It was decidedly not easy. Not only was he now begrudgingly reminded of Reed’s haughty existence, but as his headache dispersed it was replaced with a blurriness weakening his senses. A few sips later, Lieutenant Anderson might as well have been behind a dirty glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the lecture had finished, Connor had dozed off. A hard punch to the shoulder got him up and running in no time, though, and he looked up to meet the aggressor, not at all surprised by his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the problem, twink? Already drunk?” Reed laughed at his own insolence, and Connor couldn’t help but wonder if he was already showing signs of being a detective to figure out the contents of his mug, or if Connor just smelled so strongly of alcohol it was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t lose your virginity yesterday either, I take it.” Connor was only barely enjoying provoking Reed, which was as good a sign as any that he was either too drunk or too sober to function. Deciding it was already too late to humour option one, he took another large gulp from the mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reed’s cheeks flushed slightly as he tried to grab the mug, but Connor was protective of it and held it behind his back. If only his reflexes always were as good as when there was alcohol involved, he mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever. You fucking smell like a living tavern.” Reed strode off, and Connor contemplated whether or not he should return to his bed and sleep for half an hour until the next lecture began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor?” A very soft voice addressed him from behind, and he turned to meet the kind face of Simon. Their dormitory rooms were located in the same hallway, but apart from that and his name, Connor knew close to nothing about the boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey”, he greeted. “I didn’t know you studied law enforcement.” In his not entirely sober state, he didn’t ponder the fact that since he had not seen Simon in his criminology classes during his two and a half years at the school, it was painstakingly obvious he didn’t study law enforcement. The strained look on the boy’s face proved he agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m a biology major.” Simon did a once-over of Connor, who instantly grew suspicious, but kept his cool. “I wanted to speak with you about the club me and my friends are responsible for. I think it could be of your interest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A club?” Connor let his doubt overshadow his expression, and crossed his arms to show he was already disinterested. Simon’s kind smile didn’t falter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jericho</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We started it last year and we’re about twenty-five members or so. It’s a closed community with silence agreements, so none of what is said there will spread.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a badly concealed groan, Connor understood what kind of club it was immediately. Although he had no idea of its existence until now, it already seemed superfluous to have such a club rooted to the school premises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to join an AA group, thank you very much”, he spat at the poor Simon perhaps too viciously, but he tried not to feel guilty as he walked away and ignored the protests behind him. It had been harrowing enough when his mother had told him to join such a group, and he would not be convinced by a boy in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cardigan </span>
  </em>
  <span>to sit in a depressing circle and speak of his drinking habits. Shaking his head in annoyance, he went outside to catch a smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day passed in a blur of tequila and studying for an upcoming exam, which he would most likely fail if he kept studying while intoxicated, but it was only when he felt the warm contentment in his stomach that he felt motivation to do… anything. Thus, every day he was either tipsy or tired enough to never get anything of importance done. But it didn’t matter. School was boring and studying ever more so. By this point his biggest reason for not giving up on his studies was to be able to stay in his dorm, because otherwise he would have to go back to his mother. And that would be unpleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Friday rolled around, Connor felt some of the tension in his shoulders loosen at even the thought of going out later that evening. It would be nice to meet new people to drown out the sorrows of his existence. Furthermore, he hoped to find a bloke who could replace the ache in his back with a more pleasant one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his chin held high and sunglasses covering his appeased expression, Connor strode down the halls with faked confidence. He passed Simon and his group of friends, who he would not have acknowledged had it not been for one particular person of said group. Markus; the trophy student, had won a prize for his brilliance in music every year he had attended the college, and was quite famous, too. Plus, he was the leader of at least three clubs to Connor’s knowledge, and since Connor didn’t know much of other students’ antics, it was quite possible there were even more. Had he not been so heartwarmingly handsome, Connor would probably have despised the way he seemed to reek of pure charm in a way that seemed almost artificial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as it was, Connor instead felt his cheeks heat when the four heads followed his quick stride down the corridor. Simon called a friendly “hi, Connor” after him, which he ignored with a guilty sigh. It was Simon’s own fault he was being neglected; Connor’s only known personality traits were to be mean in daytime and a wench by nightfall. If Simon wanted to break through his cold demeanour, he needed more to offer than an invite to an AA club. Thinking of which, Connor wondered, how had Simon been aware of his excessive drinking? Was it something Reed had told all who would listen? Or was he so painstakingly obvious?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During one of their shared lectures, Connor overheard Reed speaking with some girl from another law enforcement class. He was loud as always, but surely louder still when he cloud flaunt about the fact that he had plans with a cute girl. That was Connor’s conclusion, because if not, with the volume he spoke it might be a sign that Reed should check his hearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what time should I pick you up later?” he asked the girl. She was cute, with a much too adorable face for someone like Reed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pick me up? I thought we’d go straight after class to meet my friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Did we decide that? I thought it was just a suggestion.” Reed’s confused expression was almost uglier than his usual face, and Connor was glad to be seated in the other end of the hall so his smirk went unnoticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” The girl seemed unimpressed. “Then how about I go with </span>
  <em>
    <span>them </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Jimmy’s instead of with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She turned to walk away, and Reed hurried to follow her, asking for forgiveness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor tried to disguise his laughter as coughs, but it was proven to be unsuccessful when Reed’s furious gaze penetrated him from across the room, and lingered until his form had rounded the doorpost out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considered the overheard conversation and sighed. It would be an interesting night at Jimmy’s bar if those murderous eyes of Gavin Reed would be there, too.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s such a douchebag”, North said disapprovingly as her gaze followed the back of Connor. She turned around to look at Markus with a raised brow. “You can’t seriously think he’s hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, cut me some slack”, Markus defended himself, crossed arms over his chest. “I was objective for once. He’s good-looking although his personality is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awful?” Josh helped fill in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not very nice”, Markus finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s lonely, though.” Simon was still turned to look at the now long gone form of Connor. “I think he could use some friends who are accepting of his person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>North snorted. “You’re such a hippie”, she told him. “Didn’t you say he didn’t even let you explain what Jericho is?” When she leaned against the wall, her beanie fell out of place. She muttered something unpleasant under her breath as she fixed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he just walked out on you.” Josh put a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “If he wants to be a loner, then let him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’ve helped him so many times now. And he’s always so thankful, then. I don’t see why those nights are the only times he actually speaks with me.” Simon referred to several occasions in which he had helped Connor get back to his dorm room safely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus lived off-campus, and after hearing some of the others’ stories, he was almost disappointed he didn’t also have a dorm. Especially Simon’s encounters with Connor made him interested. Apparently, the boy was out partying every other night, and often came stumbling through the halls in complete bewilderment. Since he was also very loud, Simon used to help him get into bed and make him drink a glass of water to get better. Truth be told, Markus thought the gesture was almost too kind, even by Simon’s standards. If the boy wanted to drink until he couldn’t feel his legs, it was his own choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s always drunk off his ass when you help him.” Markus said. “I don’t think he even remembers you those times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Simon’s attention was directed to him instead of the empty corridor. “Really? You think so?” By the way his forehead wrinkled, he seemed to consider this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either that, or he’s too embarrassed to acknowledge it”, Josh answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get why you want him to join Jericho!” North exclaimed, hands in the air. “What makes you think he’s even in the LGBT spectrum?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus tilted his head as he wondered the same. It wasn’t like Simon to judge a person by assumptions and social norms. Even if he would do that for once, it wasn’t like Connor was the most objectively gay-looking person in the school. To his credit, Simon looked offended by what North was insinuating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me only two days ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For real?” Josh looked surprised. “The tough, mean, party-junkie just went up and told you he’s into dudes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon rolled his eyes. “He said it when he was drunk. Or, he told me he had hooked up with a guy.” He shrugged. “So, I figured I could invite him to Jericho.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus nodded. Jericho was a club they had started a while ago, after an incident in the cafeteria where a boy was harassed because of his sexuality. Social justice warriors as they were, their group of friends had started the club to invite LGBT students to a safe environment where they could share experiences and meet new friends. By now, the members had a close enough relationship they went on trips and planned activities quite frequently. It was nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Josh voiced Markus’ reaction. He didn’t know enough about Connor to make any assumptions, yet he cursed himself for assuming the guy was straight. He hated prejudices, but they were hard to neglect entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course he’s welcome to join, then. But we shouldn’t push him if he doesn’t want to.” Markus said responsibly. He received three sets of eyerolls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Duh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we’re not gonna force him.” North said and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “But he’s missing out. Anyway, my class starts now so I’ll see you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They told their goodbyes before walking separate ways. None of them studied the same program, and the breaks where their schedules overlapped were few and short. Right now, his three friends all had classes whereas Markus had another forty minutes of free time. Not in the mood for studying, he fell into an armchair in a random corridor and checked his social media.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, there were so many applications and websites for even the most specific of reasons, but some of the greater platforms had broader usages. The most popular was called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bebop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, where the user could upload photos or videos which their followers could view in 3D. Thanks to his activism as well as musical success, Markus had a great deal of followers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he checked his feed, he thought back to their earlier conversation about Connor, and grew curious. When only typing ‘Connor’ into the search bar gave him unsatisfactory results, he went to Simon’s page and checked if he followed the guy. Markus almost didn’t find his account, because the profile picture was just black while his username was cryptic, but the description said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor, Detroit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor had barely two-hundred followers and seven posts; all of them in black-and-white. Some of them were 3D-photos of abandoned buildings and an old car, but what caught Markus’ interest was two of the pictures. The first was of a bloodshot eye, with freckles and hair visible to the side. With the 3D-effect, Markus almost felt the need to reach out and tuck it behind his ear, although the tired expression made the eye look more sunken than usual.The other photo showed a jawline covered in bruises, and he hoped it wasn’t Connor’s own neck, or that they were love marks rather than violent ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How grim, Markus thought and scratched his stubble. Was this a reflection of the guy’s feelings, or was he consciously edgy to keep his cool image?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comments made it even worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>G4V1NR33D_ </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>wrote: glad someone punched u lol</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>G4V1NR33D_</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> wrote: u probably deserved it</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Simon600</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> wrote: Stay safe! :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, two of the comments made it worse, whereas Simon’s comment made Markus warm with appreciation of his kind friend. He didn’t know who ‘Gavin Reed’ was, and since his profile only consisted of photos of his biceps, it was hard to figure out. Struck with empathy for Connor, Markus started following him, and would remember to try to be nice to him the next time their paths crossed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During an honestly quite boring lecture about the history of musical notes, Markus’ phone vibrated, and he felt it was more than alright to ignore his professor for a second. It was a message in the group chat between him and his closest friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>North:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> yo guys i just remembered its friday</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>North: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>we should hit the streets tonight</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Josh:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> where ?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>North:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> idk just go clubbin</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Markus:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> like a nightclub?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Simon:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> That’s too crowded, I don't want that :/</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>North:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> aight a bar then?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Markus:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> i’m in!</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Markus:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> i could need a drink to forget professor snore</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>North:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> lol</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Josh: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>yea ok me too</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Simon:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> Just choose somewhere near campus, it’s cold out &gt;.&lt;</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Markus:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> why does the weather matter? we’ll be inside</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Simon: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah but I don’t want to walk far enough that I freeze my arse ;P</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>North:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> valid</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Josh:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> jimmys bar is pretty close?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Markus:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> i think it gets kinda crowded, though</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>North: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>okok ill figure it out dw</span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
    <span></span><br/>
<b>
    <em>Simon:</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> :)</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>North:</em>
  </b>
  <em></em>
  <span> &lt;3</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a while ago he had been out for drinks, Markus reflected. By attending his own piano performances, his father’s art reveals, and by helping his brother move, he had been busy these last weekends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, he realised his clothing may be too casual, and sent a text to Simon asking if he could borrow something. After receiving an affirmative response, Markus made his way toward the boys’ dormitory building after class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes after waiting outside for Simon, he gave in to the cold and went inside. Some freshmen were noisy in the common room, so he avoided them by walking up to Simon’s floor, figuring he would soon arrive. Leaning against the wall and checking his phone, Markus almost missed Connor walking past on long legs. He smiled in greeting, but didn’t receive one in return. Connor’s facial expression was covered by his sunglasses, and Markus remembered the photo of his bloodshot eye. Was he perhaps sensitive to light?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not long after the boy had disappeared into his room, Simon arrived, so he and Markus spent some time playing video games before getting ready to head out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was crisp, yet cold breezes chilled Markus to the bone despite his thick jacket. North had been true to her words and done her research; they were neither headed to a very popular club nor any place further away than a twenty-minute walk. It was called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kamski</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and although it had seemed awfully luxurious and expensive on pictures online, North reassured that none of them would go home in debt tonight. Strangely enough, that did little to convince her friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go somewhere else”, Josh said as they stood outside the bar - if it could even be called that. The interior made it look like a mansion, albeit one with low ceilings. Instead of gangly chairs and stained tables, patrons were scattered on sofas that had a dangerous resemblance to those made of actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>velvet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The walls were covered with bookcases filled with leather-bound books and old trinkets that made the place look like a Victorian gentleman’s library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no shit”, Markus agreed. None of them were close to being poor, but there was certainly a limit to how much money four college students kept in their pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This looks like a place my grandfather would spend his nights in”, Simon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way! Come on, now.” North waved at them and made to go inside. When no one made an attempt to follow her, she sighed. “Trust me. I would never lead you astray.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This blatant lie did not reassure any of the boys</span>
  <em>
    <span> at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut it, North.” Simon sounded disappointed. Poor lad had been excited about going out, and had trusted North’s leadership. “Let’s just go to some other place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>North pursed her lips as she often did when she didn’t get something her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, whatever. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>can go but I want to warm my tits and at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>at their price tags.” She spun on her heel and confidently walked through the wooden door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh boy”, Josh said and rubbed his temples. But he took a few steps toward the entrance as well. “Just face it. We have no choice but to follow her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, the smell of old books and whiskey almost made Markus chuckle. It reminded him so much of his father it was nearly painful. Already, he liked this place. North was already standing by the bar, conversing with a female bartender with beautifully carved features and a cute smile. They seemed to get along, so at least they wouldn’t have to worry about getting kicked out for looking too poor - as sometimes happened in boring romantic comedies, Markus mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can claim that table over there.” The bartender pointed at a far corner where two sofas stood facing each other on either side of a carefully decorated table. As they made their way across the place, Markus only now noticed that most customers were not old men with grumpy expressions, but was rather a curious mix of people between the ages of twenty and perhaps late thirties at most. Again with the prejudices, Markus cursed himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you it would be nice here”, North proclaimed proudly as she sprawled out to claim an entire sofa of her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not allowed to say ‘I told you so’ until we know how much a glass of beer is.” Markus ignored the girl’s protests when he lifted her legs and proceeded to sit down with them in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it costs more than a lunch in a restaurant, I will-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon was interrupted by the beautiful bartender - and waiter, it seemed - as she suddenly appeared by their table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you decided on drinks yet?” She asked cheerfully. Her gaze lingered on North’s legs in Markus’ lap, which he interpreted as a hint at them being unsophisticated in this nice place, but if she didn’t remark on it, he wouldn’t worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh”, Simon stammered as he shot Markus and Josh panicked looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have a Johnnie Walker and four glasses.” North winked at the girl, who actually seemed to get flustered at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An entire bottle?” She asked, quickly straightening her posture again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she walked off, three sets of eyes stared horrified at the young woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“North, are you out of your goddamn mind?” Markus wanted to shout at her, but had to settle for a harsh whisper. “Do you have any idea how expensive those are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re already expensive in </span>
  <em>
    <span>stores</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but everyone knows bars </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least</span>
  </em>
  <span> triple the price!” Josh whispered perhaps even harsher, with a look on his face exposing murderous intentions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chill out, guys”, North </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But Markus felt the same panic as Josh’s rise in his chest. He was supposed to be saving money for his graduation; not drinking whiskey with his friends whereas one of them had obviously turned </span>
  <em>
    <span>mad </span>
  </em>
  <span>to order such an expensive bottle on their behalf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“North, if you won the lottery or something, could you tell us before Markus pops a blood vessel?” Simon asked, his panic showing in his frightened eyes rather than his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright”, North sighed dramatically and stretched like a cat, almost kicking Markus in the process. “I guess I won’t torture you any longer. Although it is hilarious to see your frustrated faces.” She grinned, but when no one laughed with her, she gestured at the bartender who was on her way towards them from across the room. North lowered her voice. “That’s Chloe. We’re dating, so everything is on the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not that North was going out with someone that surprised Markus; she often did, flirtatious as she was, but rather the fact that she had her legs in his lap in front of her romantic interest. Who did that sort of thing? Actions like these must be why North’s relationships had a habit of never lasting for longer than a week. Immediately, he pushed her off, but regretted it when she almost fell to the floor in front of Chloe. She would surely thank him, he reassured himself. Chloe’s amused expression further proved he did the right thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gentlemen”, Chloe addressed them as she set down four whiskey glasses on the table. “Lady”, she winked at North.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t have to serve us”, Markus was quick to say, already feeling guilty for taking advantage of his friend’s date’s kindness. He reached for the bottle, but received a slap to his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, silly.” Chloe laughed at him as she poured their glasses. To her credit, it took less than the bat of an eye, and they were all filled with the exact amount of liquid when she placed the bottle in the middle. “Have a lovely evening, lads.” Then she gestured for North to follow her, and they suspiciously disappeared behind the door marked </span>
  <em>
    <span>employees only</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three boys sat in stunned silence a few minutes, before Markus was first to grab one of the glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. Cheers to North and Chloe, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers to North and Chloe”, they agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time passed fast, as did the contents of the Johnnie Walker. While they had considered moving bars for some change of scenery, none of them actually felt compelled to leave the cozy </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kamski</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They chatted and played some games, whereas Chloe joined them in between other customers’ requests, and had a general good time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was well past midnight when they were disrupted by a commotion outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quite drunk and even more curious, all four of them stumbled out to see what was happening. Markus felt confident by the fact his broad shoulders and Josh’s height made them look frightening, and could surely spook some guys caught in a fight. Though, if that wouldn’t be enough, they could always send in North to tackle them to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But while Markus was prepared for drunk jocks caught in a brawl, he was surprised at the scene unfolding in front of him. It was a guy he didn’t recognize, and he had to squint hard to see through the alcohol-induced blurriness of his vision, but soon noticed a large amount of blood trickle from a nasty cut across his nose. In front of the guy, standing on wobbly legs, was Connor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had they not been as surprised as they were drunk, any of Markus’ friends would surely have thrown themselves in front of the injured man to protect Connor. Instead, Markus found himself looking bewildered at the two boys as they stared each other down. Around them, a few people stood gathered, some yelling that they should stop while some boys cheered a chorus of “Gavin! Gavin! Gavin!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Connor was the first to attack, Markus braced himself for Connor’s defeat. He was not only lankier than his aggressor - Gavin? - but also swayed when he strode forward, as if he was even more intoxicated than Markus and his friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prejudices seemed to have him wrapped around its fingers today, since Connor was actually good at fighting, despite his predicaments. While his first punch hit air as Gavin jumped away, the kick to his stomach made Gavin fall to his knees in pain. On the ground, Gavin unsuccessfully tried to grab at Connor, but his nimble limbs stayed out of reach. When he charged a punch that would surely have injured Gavin worse, Markus finally broke his trance and ran forward to grab his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor seemed surprised when his fist didn’t connect with Gavin’s jaw, but by the way his gaze failed to focus on Markus and rather flickered this way and that, Markus realised he was way past the point of being smashed. The boy was utterly </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor, y-you lil’ twink”, the guy on the ground growled at him drunkenly. “Givin’ up already? ‘Bout to-to take it up the arse as reward?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Josh, lord bless him, grabbed Gavin by the shoulders and pressed him to the ground so he could not attack again. The onlookers who had cheered the guy on protested, but the people who had yelled at them to stop tried to calm them down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Reed”, Connor said, or rather sputtered. With his own senses weakened, Markus had to consider the spoken vowels a while before actually understanding what he said. “I su-sure showed him who’s… who’s.” Connor closed his eyes for a while, and Markus almost wondered if he had fallen asleep in his outstretched arms, when he finished with; “Reed can suck my aaass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, Markus remembered the mean comments on Connor’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bebop </span>
  </em>
  <span>picture that a certain </span>
  <em>
    <span>G4V1NR33D_ </span>
  </em>
  <span>had written. He had to snort at the obvious username and looked down at the lad spewing profanities on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we call the police?” Simon called from somewhere to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you do that I’ll slit your fuck</span>
  <em>
    <span>ing</span>
  </em>
  <span> throat”, Gavin spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus had to consider the alternatives. The police would have to figure out who had started the fight as well as who the bigger victim was. Judging by their respective injuries, Gavin was without a doubt the underdog, no matter his threatening shouts. With furrowed brows, Markus inspected Connor’s visible skin, but couldn’t find anything worse than a small bruising on his collarbone. Was he really that good of a combatant? But as he looked at the almost unconscious face of the boy, Markus shook his head. If the police were to get involved, Connor would be the one in most trouble. Although they lacked any sort of relation to each other, Markus didn’t want the other to get arrested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I think it’s better if we, uh, just help him home”, Markus sputtered an answer, and was surprised when Connor’s body finally gave way to fall into his embrace. Even through his weakened senses, Markus grew flustered as he jousted the body to lean against his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay. Let’s go, then”, Simon said and went to join them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” North looked at them incredulously. “Are you just gonna leave our night out because of that asshole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s hardly capable of walking home on his own.” Markus raised a brow at her. “You think we should rather, uh, let him pass out on the street? Or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>North bit her lip angrily. “No. But he’s not our responsibility, either. Leave him with those.” She pointed to the group of onlookers who had moved to help Gavin get back to his feet as Josh cautiously got up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll take him home”, Simon declared to end the discussion. “If you wanna waltz back to your girlfriend, it’s fine. We’ll handle him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” North turned to leave, but looked back again. “Josh? Are you joining?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Josh seemed disconcerted as he looked between his friends uncertainly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chloe is still working, so I’ll be alone in a corner otherwise”, North tempted. “Plus, there’s still some whiskey left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine”, Markus told him. “Follow her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sure.” Josh smiled apologetically, but Markus understood he would have a better time with North than being some stranger’s nanny. ”Call us when you get back, or if anything happens on the way. We’ll come right away,” he promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When their two friends disappeared around the corner, Markus smiled lopsidedly at Simon, and together they lifted Connor to stand between them, arms around either of their shoulders. Gavin trudged away together with the others, and soon they were mostly alone as they made their way down the dimly lit street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s my…” Connor slurred, eyes still closed as he wobbled forward. “Where’s my-my, uh, my beer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus snorted at the hardly coherent boy. “I don’t know.” Markus said. “But you’ll manage without it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nooo”, was the reply, in a tone so sad it actually made Markus’ own lips drop a bit. “Wait. Who’re you?” He stopped to look between his two escorts, but since his head fell from this side to that, he could clearly not make out their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Simon and Markus”, Simon answered with an amused look as they continued walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Connor seemed to consider this. “Hi, Simon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Connor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s the other one again?” Connor’s hair was ruffled and for once not styled in his regular neat backslick. Markus admitted he was unfairly adorable for someone who had assaulted a bloke barely ten minutes prior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Markus. Senior year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s unseeing eyes lit up. “The music guy? Yeah, he’s-” he hiccuped, “he’s hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon laughed heartily, while Markus’ cheeks burned slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad he’s, uuuh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>waaay </span>
  </em>
  <span>outta my league.” At Connor’s words, Simon laughed even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think that?” He asked cheekily, and Markus sent him an angry glare. It felt immoral to get Connor to admit things when he was this wasted. No way was he going to remember any of this, the proof being how hard he was struggling to walk even with the two of them as support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a-a trophy. Good at music? Uh, famous, too. And hot. Too hot for-for someone like </span>
  <em>
    <span>meee</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus had to repeat the words a few times before figuring out what he meant. A trophy? As in the gold-medal? Did he believe Markus to be the first prize? A trophy student? Or a trophy </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>? His cheeks heated more profoundly than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor, please stay quiet”, he muttered, when Simon wouldn’t stop sending him cheeky grins. “Or speak of something else. Hey, why were you fighting that guy?” He was obviously changing the subject, and this time he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>look at Simon to see what face he pulled on him at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fight?” Connor almost fell to his knees, but his supporters pulled him up in time. “What fight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You punched a guy named Gavin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did?” His eyes turned big in wonder. “Wow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was he mean to you?” Markus remembered the comment on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bebop </span>
  </em>
  <span>again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s always mean.” Connor laughed. It was cute; as raspy as his voice but gentle to the ear. “A r-real douche.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon patted Connor’s back in encouragement, and they walked quietly for a while. It was cold outside, but the alcohol in his system made Markus warm. He looked at Connor and realised the boy wore nothing but some shirt and a denim jacket. Coming to an abrupt stop, he wasted no time shrugging off his jacket and gingerly pulled Connor’s arm through the sleeve instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Simon asked him. “What if you catch a cold?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll manage”, Markus answered. “Even my shirt is probably warmer than his clothes.” It was not true; the dress shirt he had borrowed by Simon was thin, but by now there was no wind and he figured he would be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smells good”, Connor said and borrowed his face in its collar. Markus just about melted at the adorable scene. No way was he going to regret lending his jacket </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, they trudged on in silence. Although he was surely miles away from sobriety, Connor’s steps got less uneven as his balance improved a little. The warmth radiating to Markus’ side left him content, since his right side was freezing cold, and he smiled. This was not such a bad walk, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took it back immediately when Connor suddenly started to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first it was a whimper, and Markus looked at him in confusion, thinking it was nothing but another drunken hiccup. But the wet cheeks proved he had already been silently crying for some time. Markus and Simon looked panicked at each other, neither of them knowing what to do. Should they stop and calm him down, or continue as if they hadn’t noticed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gay.” Connor said, and cried harder. This made the decision easy. Markus stopped and gently crouched in front of the boy to look him in the eye. Now, he was not met with an unfocused stare, but rather a frightened one that chilled Markus’ heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay.” Markus tried to smile. “Is that why you’re crying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shook his head and closed his eyes. Then he nodded, and met Markus’ gaze again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hate myself</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had said it so bluntly, in complete earnest. Markus felt as if his heart was being squeezed. Simon drew in a breath above him, but he did not let his eyes leave Connor. A strong sense of protectiveness overcame him, and he struggled to resist the urge to pull him in for a hug. Especially in this predicament, it felt wrong to accidentally overstep any boundaries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a d-douchebag, I take it up the ass, a-and I always ruin everyone’s mood.” Connor wiped his tears, but his voice remained shaky and uneven. He closed his eyes again and turned his head. “I-I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetic</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor, you’re not-” Simon began, but was interrupted by Connor’s shout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck-up</span>
  </em>
  <span> who drinks every day ‘cus that’s the only time I don’t feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus couldn’t abstain any longer. He felt a tear run down his cheek at the sincere emotions Connor expressed. It was obvious they had been bottled up for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm lanky and look like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>! No one will ever want me for more than a quick fuck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor-” Simon tried again, but before he could continue Connor fell through his grip. Markus catched him a second before he would have hit the ground. The boy curled up in his embrace and cried against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to die”, he sobbed. “But I definitely don’t want to live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus observed him with a sad expression. How miserable and lonely must Connor be to break down like this in front of two practical strangers? He was drunk, sure, but Markus understood there must have been a lot going on in the boy’s head for him to find comfort in the arms of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Markus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had no idea what to say, so he simply hugged Connor tighter and rocked slowly back and forth to calm him as well as himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon crouched beside them and put a reassuring hand on Connor’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Connor”, he said softly. “You have nothing to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re safe with us”, Markus whispered into brown tufts of hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat there on the ground for quite a while. Connor kept crying while Markus embraced him and Simon rubbed his back. Markus almost felt embarrassed to find comfort in their arranged positions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Connor took a few breaths before struggling to stand, and Simon and Markus were quick to help him. Markus’ back hurt from sitting still in the cold air, but he tried not to pay it any mind as they continued towards the dormitories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know there’s nothing wrong with liking men, right?” Simon was the one to break the silence. He received no answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that Gavin guy harassed you because of your sexuality you can report it to the school’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s whatever”, Connor snapped, and Markus was surprised at the suddenly very hostile tone. “He’s just a jerk, it doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus and Simon shared sad smiles above the boy’s downcast head, neither of them happy with how bigots still remained to successfully bother people like themselves who simply lived as they pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Connor”, Markus said, and the boy looked up to meet his gaze. He hugged him closer by the side. “We’ll figure this out, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon nodded. “My invitation to Jericho is still available.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus watched as Connor’s nose scrunched up before he turned to look at the blonde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to join AA”, he spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Markus and Simon shared a confused look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?” he asked. “Jericho is our club for LGBT students. We’re a pretty tight group by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor blinked, seemingly surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>? That sounds way better!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Markus laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Connor. I promise it will get better.”</span>
</p>
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